“No matter. We are here to search your premises. It will take only a few minutes, and you may accompany us.”

“I’ll go,” offered Rachel. “I don’t think we all need to be there.”

“D’accord,” said the second cop, who was shorter and darker than his colleague.

“It’s this way,” said Rachel, leading them to the entryway.

“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed Madame Defarge when the door had closed behind them. “I am so embarrassed. Those other men, they weren’t police at all, were they? But I was in a hurry to get to the market, and they looked like policemen. They were in uniform. I would not have let them in otherwise.”

“It’s understandable,” said Pam. “They must have been in disguise.”

“What did they look like?” asked Lucy.

“Young men. They looked like flics. Good-looking. Polite. I never thought . . .”

“Were they dark? Blond? Beards?” persisted Lucy.

“Je ne me souviens pas!” wailed Madame Defarge.

“She doesn’t remember,” said Lucy, translating.

“It doesn’t matter,” observed Sue. “We don’t know many people in Paris. We probably wouldn’t recognize them, anyway.”

Lucy didn’t agree. “A description would help the police. Whoever searched our place is probably connected to Chef Larry’s murder, right? They could even be the murderers.”

“I didn’t think of that,” admitted Sue.

“But wait! We have a camera,” said Madame Defarge. “A TV camera.” She pointed upward, to a corner of the courtyard, where a small surveillance camera was perched on a windowsill.

“You have CCTV?” asked Bill.

She nodded. “It’s part of the security system. I don’t bother with it, but a man comes every month and checks it.”

“Can we look at the film?” asked Lucy.

“Bien sûr, that is, if you know how to . . .”

“Let me take a look,” offered Sid. He followed Madame into the concierge lodge and a few minutes later appeared in the doorway, beckoning to the others.

They gathered inside the cozy living room, all eyes on Madame’s tiny TV. Sid used the remote to fast-forward through the grainy black-and-white images, which were as jerky as old silent films. They laughed, recognizing themselves, looking very tired and jet-lagged on the day they arrived, and they saw themselves coming and going in the days since, as well as the other occupants of the apartments that shared the courtyard. Then, when Lucy was beginning to feel slightly dizzy from staring at the speeding footage, the two fake cops appeared.

“Stop!” she ordered.

Sid hit the remote, and everything slowed down. They all leaned forward, studying the image. “It’s their backs,” complained Rachel.

“They have to come out,” said Bill, and Sid hit FORWARD once again, until the two men reappeared, exiting the apartment entryway. He hit STOP, and they could see blurry images of their faces.

“I’m not sure,” said Lucy, “but they look a lot like . . .”